It was an absolutely gorgeous weekend here and Randy and I had the opportunity to be out on the ocean in our boat. We had the opportunity to stay overnight in an off grid cabin, a three bedroom home beautifully set up in a private bay. On the way out the water was a little rougher than usual but Randy handled the boat with no problems and we were enjoying being out on the water. About halfway to our destination, we started talking about spreading Colton’s ashes, as I haven’t been able to do this yet. Just as we began talking about it, we saw the spray of a whale, so Randy slowed the boat in time for us to see a Humpback come up out of the water and show us a fin or two. He remarked on the coincidence of this happening just as we were talking about Colton. It was a very special, magical moment. Shortly after we arrived at the cabin and settled in. The dogs were having a great time exploring. We were able to set some prawn traps about a ten minute boat ride from the place, excited to collect prawns the following morning. I sunbathed on the deck while Randy took a little kayak to the other side of the bay to collect a bucket of oysters that we cooked on the barbeque later that evening. I mean, it really couldn’t have been a better way to spend the day. The sky was blue, the weather warm, the ocean as gorgeous as ever.
We were up at 6 am the following morning to run out and collect the prawns. Everything went off without a hitch and after returning to the cabin, 71 prawns were processed and bagged and ready to take home. We cleaned and packed up and got the dogs in the boat to start the journey back. The ocean was calmer on the way in and we spoke about how great it was to have the opportunity to do this, to live here, to have a boat and be out on the ocean exploring this beautiful place.
And then as I was looking out at the sun reflecting on the water, it happened. A grief sabotage. Out of the clear blue sky, in the happiest of moments, after a wonderful weekend, came a picture in my head that made me close my eyes and feel the all-to-familiar stab of pain to the heart. This time the image was of my daughter in law and I washing Colton’s body and changing him into his favorite black T shirt and track pants shortly after he had passed. At the time, it had seemed the most natural thing for she and I to do this, and we didn’t want to give that intimate task to the Hospice nurses. It was a graphic image of a traumatic, horrible time of sheer beauty and love. A few final tender moments spent alone with the person we loved the most. It is a memory that sometimes I wish I didn’t have and other times I cherish. And in this particular moment of relaxation, gratitude and joy, it came as quite a shock to my senses.
So, I sat there quietly dealing with this and eventually Randy looks over to see the tears rolling down my face and he asks me what’s up. As I explained what had just happened to me we both gained another level of understanding about how grief works. Sometimes, like just then, it swoops in with a gut-punch of a memory that nearly knocks you from your chair. And as swiftly as it comes, it goes, leaving you reeling with the impact.
Fortunately, I was able to acknowledge the memory, validate it, send my love to Colton and let it go. I am not always able to do that, so for that I was grateful. We went on to take the boat to a fresh water lake to relaunch and let the motor run free of the salt water of the ocean, and the rest of our weekend continued to be as lovely as the beginning.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been grief sabotaged, and I can guarantee it won’t be the last. My mind is full of these images and memories of the trauma I’ve experienced while losing Colton. The pain that I feel when they flood my mind is as sharp as it was in the moment. Possibly sharper as I was numb with shock and disbelief at the time that it happened. They are a vivid reminder of so many things. Not only of the tragedy of Colton’s illness and passing, but of the intense feelings of helplessness, overwhelming feelings of emptiness, and the never ending love that a mother has for her son.
♥️♥️♥️ This is beautiful
I am just entering into another of many seasons of grief, as I approach the anniversary of my beautiful Carrie’s passing. It washes over and through me without bidding. The bright blue skies and sunshine that she loved so much, nature at its best, never fail to bring forth memories of so many years past now.
Just yesterday as I was enjoying the sunshine and reminiscing, there came a sweet moment. A robin came and alighted on a large planter on my deck ( have never seen a robin there before) and stayed a few minutes just looking at me while I whispered “Hello’s” and ” I Love You”. The visit brought me peace and eternal thankfulness that our universes can coincide. Throughout the years there have been so many moments, so many “visits”…… each one burns bright in my heart and allows my tears to change from sorrow to joy.
Grief is a journey that never truly ends…. it sleeps in our hearts and allows us to continue on living and loving this life we are blessed to still enjoy.
It is coming up to 25 years since I last shared precious time with my darling girl. When the grief comes forth, it’s still as raw and heart wrenching as ever it has been, but it subsides a little easier now and allows me to tuck it back to sleep. I never want it to end, it is a part of me as sure as every breath I take. It is a mirror that reflects all the love and joy of the years we shared.
My heart is with you Nancy, I admire your strength in creating this space to share your journey with others and for us to feel safe in sharing a bit of ours with you . Thank you!
Nellie, thank you so much for sharing this beautiful comment. I remember this time for you like it was yesterday, not almost 25 years ago, and it is a testament to the fact that we will grieve the loss of our children for the rest of our days. Those moments when we know that Carrie and Colton are with us are what make the rest of our time here worthwhile and full of meaning. I’m sending love and gratitude your way today, thank you my friend.